


As it Should Be

by plsnskanks (orphan_account)



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Monster Tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-11-01 17:19:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10926456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/plsnskanks





	As it Should Be

Unfortunately, it always seems to be Patryk who comes across Tom in this state. Of all the people, it’s the one that Tord will murder Tom for if he gets hurt again. So for his own safety and Tom’s, when Patryk enters the dark room, flips the switch, and nearly leaps out of his skin at the vicious snarl and half shifted Tom that greets him, Patryk turns on his heel and goes right back out the door. It’s essentially a reflexive “Fuck this shit I’m out”.

It seems Tom has built a nest of Tord’s and his clothes in their central command room where they are scheduled to have a massive meeting later on in the day. It’s a problem. A potentially catastrophic one depending on how they handle it. He doesn’t know why Tom can shift, but if he goes fully shifted and decides to rampage in their central sector, this operation is done for.

He comes back a few minutes later with Paul and about six armed soldiers. Patryk stays at the door to redirect any unarmed personnel while Paul and his squad go in to try and sort out the situation.

“Specimen 617, I’m going to have to request you vacate this sector. You have been informed ahead of time that this sector is classified and you are forbidden to enter such areas,” Paul states. Patryk knows he would rather just drag Tom out of the room by the scruff of his neck and be done with it, but protocol exists for a reason, and they can’t allow their friendly relationship with Tom to breach that.

A fully human hand comes up and flings a mug in their general direction. Paul dodges it and it shatters against the wall.

“Tom, knock this fucking shit off now before we go radio Tord,” Paul snaps, forgetting protocol in an instant as irritation overwhelms him. They’re on a delicate timeline and he’s feeling the pressure.

“Approach with caution, deadly force is forbidden, if he shifts to any degree you are authorized to use any amount of sedative, if you think you’re giving a lethal dose, you probably aren’t."With that Paul signals the go ahead and they converge on Tom’s location.

The first soldier to step on one of the scraps of clothes Tom has surrounded himself with is almost instantly face to face with a half shifted monster. Tom is so close to him his horns are nearly touching the soldier’s helmet. He is thrown back a few feet and lands on his back, momentarily stunned.

Paul takes aim and fires a shot of sedative at Tom. Tom dives back into the pile of clothes and the room is still of a moment. The squad continues to creep forward. As they come within five feet of the nest the pile starts to shift and move. Tom rises up in his towering three quarter form.

Paul’s stomach drops.

Every muscle is drawn tight, every line in Tom’s face is a testament to his unhinged emotional state.

If they are looking to deescalate this situation in time for the meeting, it’s not happening at this rate. Someone is definitely going to end up dead if they continue to push this time table.

Paul signals the back off just as Tom throws a swing that catches two of his men and throws them clear off their feet. They land in a heap somewhere behind him and Paul doesn’t doubt that both of them have something sprained or broken.

He pulls out his radio, "Patryk call Tord and tell him Tom is out of control. He’s nested in the room, he can shift for god knows what reason and at least two of my men need to go to the med bay. The meeting needs a postponement.”

“Do you need help pulling them out?” Patryk’s concerned voice crackles through the radio.

“For the love of God, no, stay out there. I think if we back off his nest he’ll stop.”

“You have two minutes before I call backup and come extract you myself.”

Paul grunts and puts his radio away. He raises his empty hands to Tom and backs off slowly, angling himself towards his wounded men. He doesn’t break eye contact with Tom and Tom doesn’t shift down.

He grabs the back of his men by their coats and with the help of his unwounded men, he pulls them towards the exit. As they back off, Tom hunkers down into his nest, clawed hand scraping at the piece of clothing that Paul’s soldier stepped on earlier. He pulls it closer to the others. Said soldier had since recovered from his position on the ground and he is one of the first ones out of the room.

As they reach the exit Paul counts his men as they leave. He gives Tom one last look and says, “Good luck handling Tord on this one, fucker.”

He gets a clawed middle finger and something approximating a laugh. Paul empties his clip of sedative in Tom’s general direction. He’s sure almost all of them miss and in this state it’s basically a moot point even if they did.

Patryk is relieved when he receives a fuming Paul in the hallway, even if he looks like he’s planning Tom’s early funeral.

—————

Tord gets the message Tom has nested in the central control room at noon. He is barely thinking about it when he authorizes a squad to go in and remove him, physically if necessary.

He’s certainly thinking about it now that three of his men are in the med bay.

He needs like, a calendar on his wall with all Tom’s estimated heats on it. Because this is quickly becoming a regular issue. He’s sure Lenker has already made one anyways. He makes a mental note to ask him about it later.

Tord is ninety percent sure Tom nested in the control room just to spite him for not paying him enough attention over the last month. Or, even worse, he’s caught wind of what Tord had planned.

There’s been a big mission in the works to undermine the Green Alliance movement, cut their main ammunition supply through a series of land and sea brigades, coordinated embargoes, and a massive airspace lock down to prevent air drops. It could be the final death knell for Edd’s stupid little frivolous resistance.

There was supposed to be a meeting to confirm these engagements, hosted in the central control room. All the appropriate documentation was there and the last agreements were to be signed during that meeting.

Which was currently being postponed by a little devil who could turn into a big devil if provoked.

Honestly, how hard was it to sedate Tom, drag him to a heat room and throw away the key?

Apparently hard enough that it required his personal involvement. Again. Ever since he personally had to go hunt down Tom the first time, Tord kept the kit he had been given by the lab. He pulled it out now and gave it a long look, before pulling out the dart gun. He’d love to dose Tom with D-88 again, but it had mysteriously disappeared from his kit and Tord had a suspicion either of his second in commands had something to do with it.

He makes a note to get more from the lab later.

He rounds the corner and is greeted by a huddle of soldiers, commanding officers, and paperwork grunts who were supposed to set up the documentation before the meeting.

Ugh. What a mess this shit is going to be to untangle.

Tord approaches one of the soldiers.

“Current status of 617?”

“He’s semi coherent but he starts to shift when we get close to his nest. Someone made it within six feet and he got up to his three quarter shift state. We were advised to back off.”

Tord sighs. He gives his metal arm a long look. It’s just going to be one of those days, isn’t it?

“Why can 617 shift? What about his dosage of 117?” Tord asks, frustration rising.

The soldier swallows nervously.

“He skipped his regulated trip to the medical bay this morning and by the time we finally located him he was able to shift.”

Fuck. Of course. Tom had an hour window which he was supposed to receive his dose. If someone was negligent and let him go outside that window, Tom was able to fully shift again. He guess someone had dropped the ball on the account of the seriousness of this meeting.

“I’ll handle it. I want no one to enter the room unless I give the signal for it, understood?”

All the soldiers nod in unison. The door is opened for him and Tord is hit with a wall of heat stench. He looks to the corner of the room and sees a pile of his work jackets, some sheets from both his and Tom’s bed and a number of red hoodies.

It would be cute if his fucking entire upper command hadn’t seen it. If there was one thing Tord hated it was blatantly mixing personal with work unless it was disciplining Tom for mouthing off.

At the sound of his entrance a head pops up from the nest and peers at him. Tom is fully human for the moment, thank god. The room fills with an angry whine. Not hostile, more agitated. Tord takes that as a good sign. If Tom doesn’t fight him on this, he can still keep the meeting reasonably on track and not have to drag his mate through the wringer in front of his officers. Maybe even just have a normal heat with him after a bit of discipline regarding his choice of nesting areas.

Tom turns around in his nest and presents his leaking slit to Tord. It’s tempting, he’s not going to lie. He could just take care of things here and be done with it.

Yeah right. There’s no way someone wouldn’t hear them and this meeting needs to happen ASAP before already tentative gracious feelings snap.

“You aren’t getting what you want. You’re holding up a meeting Tom, and I swear to god if I find out from either Paul or Patryk that this was to significant benefit of the Green Army, we are going to have a long, unpleasant session in my room,” Tord threatens, flexing his metal arm to remind Tom of the last couple times he was forcibly taken to Tord’s chambers.

Tom looks back and his black eyes turn to little slits. His whines have turned to angry growls at Tord’s refusal. Then he starts to shift. He ends up in his three quarter form and Tord is only marginally grateful that he hasn’t fully shifted. In this state he towers over Tord by two to three heads, with a clear size and strength advantage.

“You are a dead boy when I get done with all this,” Tord mutters.

There’s this deep rumble that comes from Tom. Tord thinks it might be a laugh. Whatever it’s supposed to be, it’s only added into his cold fury. He pulls out the dart gun. Shit. He doesn’t even know if a full mag of 117 is enough to get Tom fully human when he’s in this state, or at least to his half shifted form. Even worse, if they fight now, the center control room is going to absolutely be destroyed. Important documents and equipment gone down the shitter. Some of that fury leaves Tord as he realizes he’s cornered. He’s in check with very limited options.

He looks at Tom. He can’t believe this. He’s going to have to negotiate.

“If you let them clean your nest up from here and hold the meeting I’ll take care of you,” Tord says.

Tom looks at him and then at the gun in his hand and snarls. Tord rolls his eyes, drops the gun and kicks it over to Tom. It’s almost comical to watch him try and scramble back from the gun as it skitters over.

“Yes? Deal?”

Tom doesn’t move away from his nest. He looks at Tord and lets out another deep rumble, slightly turned up at the end.

“If I get your word, in human form that this wasn’t purposefully to assist Edd, and I get the tactical data to support this, I won’t punish you. But even if you didn’t mean any harm and it’s just coincidence that the Green Alliance took a major win from this… I’m sure you can imagine.”

Tom comes back to his half shifted form and he cautiously approaches Tord, picking up one of the sweaters from the ground. He makes it fully over to Tord, only about a foot or two away and when Tord doesn’t move or make it apparent he has some sort of ace up his sleeve, Tom shifts fully back to human form, tugging on Tord’s sweater over him. It hangs a little past his mid thigh. It’s cute. Under all the agitation at this massive waste of time and resources, this little detour charade, Tord has to admit it’s cute. Tom is probably playing him like a fiddle right now, but if it gets his meeting back on track Tord could care less.

“If you try to dose me with 117 before we finish, I’ll fully shift and destroy the entire command sector,” Tom says sweetly before strutting past Tord and out into the open hall. Where he is almost immediately seized by three soldiers simultaneously. Tord whistles a command for them to back off and they let Tom go. He enjoys the look of angry annoyance on Tom’s face as he walks out into the hall.

“Alright, I want the room turned over in ten minutes, all our contacts sent apologies for the delay. Paul is going to spearhead this meeting, someone go retrieve him from the med bay. Send my regrets that I could not be here personally. I will attend the follow up meeting at 1800 to address any concerns.”

With that Tord is walking Tom rapidly to his personal sector. He swipes his keycard and Tom quickly scrambles inside. The sweater is off him in a moment and he is turned round waiting patiently for Tord on the bed. Tord approaches him. He runs his organic hand along Tom’s face. Tom leans into his touch. He is panting lightly and is covered in a light sheen of sweat.

“Promise that this wasn’t some underhanded attempt at political subterfuge,” Tord says softly, as he strokes Tom.

Black eyes open and Tord is startled by the heat behind them.

“This isn’t about a fucking mission, you ass. It’s about you doing your duty as my bonded alpha. The only thing I knew is that you would be in the central control room today and since you dodged every viable method of communication I had I decided to road block your stupid operation,” Tom spat. His panting was so heavy now that it looked close to convulsions. Tord is taken aback. He frequently forgets how nasty the physical side effects of omega heat are.

Tom looks pallid at best, expression tinged with pain and desperation.

“Okay, alright. I get it,” Tord tries to soothe. When Tom gets like this he feels so useless. He can’t fix things with force or tactics and it’s hard for him to read precisely what Tom wants. He looks on to his partner in alarm as he doubles over in pain.

“I don’t know if you get this yet but when you neglect me my heats are painful,” Tom says with heavy emphasis on the last word. “It’s not like your fucking rut where you get to be a dick and jack off on shit for a few days. My body tells me I need a knot, yours in particular. Your little soldier boys don’t cut it, trust me I’ve tried,”   
Tom spits.

Tord isn’t pleased by that last statement but he lets it slide. Maybe that’s something to attend to later.

“I just want you to be here and help me. How fucking hard is it to notice? Apparently nesting in your office is the right way to go even if you beat me to shit before you fuck me,” Tom says clutching his stomach as a rush of prickling heat hits him.

“Why didn’t you take 117 this morning?”

Tom closes his eyes in agitation, “I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking. I was just trying to nest somewhere someone would help me.”

It sounds pathetic, he knows it does. But Tom can’t hold back anymore. He’s in pain, he wants attention, he wants this cycle to stop.

Tord rolls him over onto his back, pushing him down so that he is laying against the bed spread. He wants him to stop talking. He can’t fight back against this. He doesn’t know how to respond. Mostly because Tom’s right. He’s been sidelining him and leaving him to do a two person job on his own.

“Shh, I have you now, I got you,” Tord murmurs.

“Sure now that it’s convenient,” Tom mutters.

Tord doesn’t know how to apologize. How to use his words to accurately express his emotions to Tom. To express the depth and sincerity of his regret. So he does what he does best and spells it out through force and violence. He is in Tom and while the anger is still written clearly across his body and face, the tension behind it leaves as Tord starts to pound in.

He wraps his arms around Tom, bringing him closer to kiss him deeply, Tom permits him, laying back and letting him have his way. When Tord goes to stroke him, Tom gets the idea that Tord is trying to apologize through actions rather than words.

It’s kind of puerile, but endearing nonetheless. He finds himself enjoying their time together, sated by the smell and warmth of the man above him. He looks up to see this tender expression on Tord’s face and it startles him a little in its sincerity and intensity. He gets gentle kisses down his neck and unlike the last time, they aren’t infuriating. It’s nice. It’s what he wants. Just some affection and attention. Tom is thrusting up into his grip and Tord lets him.

He feels Tord’s base swelling and he sighs in relief. It slips inside with relative ease and Tord stills as his knot swells.

“Is this good? Is this how you want it?” He asks. Tom blinks.

“Can you shift up a little more? Push in your knot deeper, its pulling at my rim and it hurts.”

Tord complies with his request and Tom lets out a happy sigh of contentment. The swollen ache is increasing and increasing and it feels good. Tom can handle this pain. It’s a pain that comes from love, a pain that his body craves. Tord cums in him and he keeps stroking him through his own orgasm until Tom cums and it’s good. It’s so good. He closes his eyes and falls asleep before Tord even pulls out.

He wakes up and Tord is still there, he looks younger when he sleeps, the scarred half of his face buried in the pillow. He looks like he used to. Before robots. Before harpoons. Before bitter things and bitter people.

Tom likes to think he looks as he should be like that.

But he knows better


End file.
